


... In Love

by beaniebopbaby



Series: To Be So... [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: But it's okay, By a Fire, M/M, Making Love, Smut, french vacation, i'm sorry for the google translate french, there is a time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:42:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25304722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaniebopbaby/pseuds/beaniebopbaby
Summary: Reconnect with Louis and Harry eight years later on their private trip to France.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: To Be So... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832974
Kudos: 17





	... In Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is the epilogue for To Be So... 
> 
> I had so much fun writing it, I hope you like it.

March 2027

I woke up, the sun shining bright on my face. Pale white blinding light bled into the room, making my eyes squeeze shut. I felt forced awake, jet lag still running course through my body. 

Harry’s slender body was tucked under mine, our legs tangled from gravitating towards each other while we slept. I looked down at him, his face resting on my chest, soft snores falling from his lips. I took my finger and brushed back an unruly tuft of hair. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light while he blinked up at me.  
“You need a haircut,” I whispered to him. His hair had grown out a bit, usually too busy to ever sit down for one. His hair was more fluffy than curly right now, it made it hard to not run my fingers through it constantly.

“Good morning,” he replied, deep voice hoarse and low. I felt myself involuntarily smile, no matter how many mornings we spent together, I would never get used to the way he sounded. It was dark and sexy and at the same time really fucking adorable, the way he rubbed his sleepy eyes.

“Good morning, love.” I slowly pressed my fingers through his hair, soothing down any out of place bits. I looked away, to the window. We got in really late last night, exhausted from the flights we took to meet in Paris, me coming from London and Harry from New York. After we met in Paris, we drove eight hours in a rental to Collioure, coming to the small cottage Harry’s travel agent booked us.

By the time we got in, we both collapsed on the bed. I helped Harry out of the light wash blue jeans he wore. He picked me up and held my elbow up while we both brushed our teeth.

An oversight, I saw as I woke up to a pale blinding light, was that we failed to draw any of the curtains. But this morning, it gave me a view of the beautiful fog that rolled over the lush, green hills. Harry caught my eyeline and looked over at the windows, sighing with content and leaning against me to watch.

I sat up against the antique wooden headboard, holding Harry against my chest. “Let’s just stay in bed all day, yeah?”

Harry’s face rolled into my neck, nuzzling and smiling. “No,” He drawled out. “There’s a market today, I heard it’s really good. I want to get something fresh to cook for dinner. And some wine.” 

“And who, pray tell, did you hear that from? You don’t know anyone here.”

“I may or may not have gotten the email of the owner of the cottage from Janine.” Harry said, blushing. Of course he did. “She’s a very nice woman who moved to Perpignan when her daughter had her first child. It was a boy, by the way. His name is Claude.”

“I suppose you know the time of birth, what the baby weighed, and how many hours the mother was in labor for as well.” I retorted. Harry swatted at me as he laughed. 

“I really would like to go to the market though, if you’d join me.” 

“I couldn’t think of any better way to spend my Sunday, baby.” I said, Harry nuzzling into me, a dimpled smile tugging at his lips. 

“I better go shower then,” he said, placing a soft kiss to the dip of my collarbones, where his head was resting. “Join me, if not for my sake, then to save water from the well.”

“There isn’t a well in this cottage.” I smirked. 

“Oh, there isn’t? Silly me,” Harry shrugged, making his way to the bathroom.

It was hard to believe that it had been about eight years since I slept in his bed in his London house. 

When I woke up that morning, I couldn’t breathe. Because I didn’t know what Harry and I were doing and I panicked, fearful that we just screwed up any possibility of having a relationship together by making love that night. I wanted desperately to get everything right with Harry, to make this work with him, and have him in my life again. 

Harry held me that morning, tight between his arms, whispering soothing words against my skin. Once I calmed down, we held hands and talked for hours, sat on his patio. We talked about what we wanted for now and for the future, where we stood and how we thought we could get to where we wanted to be. We talked about how we had grown in that time apart and what we learned. 

We agreed on being friends first, working on loving ourselves and each other. We saw each other when we could, whenever we were in the same city or we had a good bit of time off. But we talked, as we promised. We heard from each other at least every week, late night phone calls or FaceTiming on planes. 

I tried, so hard. I used to believe that you shouldn’t have to put a lot of work into being in a relationship. I thought that if things were meant to be, then they would just work. But I realized that if you wanted to be with someone, you had to work at it, care for the relationship, nourish it. And I knew I had to show Harry that I saw things from that light.

We did that for about a year and a half. During the summer, a little less than seven years ago, we were both in London. We had just spent the day together, playing pool and listening to music at Harry’s. I went home that night, bidding Harry goodnight. It was hard to leave, my heart begged me to stay, to hold him and let my heart spill out of my chest. But I did, too afraid that it was too early to try a relationship.

It was storming that night and I heard a knock at the door of my flat. I opened it, shocked to find Harry standing there, drenched from the pouring rain.  
“H? Are you okay? What’s - ” I started to ask, trying to pull him inside. But Harry cut me off.

He placed his hands on my jaw, titled my head up, and pressed a cold, wet kiss hard against my lips. 

I placed my hands on his hips, leaning into the touch and kissed him back, eager and wanting. “Will you be my boyfriend?” Harry asked, lips never leaving mine.  
“God, yes. Yes, yes. Of course, yes.” I chanted against his lips. Harry picked me up, spun me around, my thighs wrapping around his waist. I giggled against his neck, the sound of his laughter filled my flat. 

We got married four years ago. 

It was a completely unplanned. Just us. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

We woke up in bed that morning, in the villa we bought in Thetford for when we wanted to be away from the busy city, pressing feverish kisses onto each other’s bodies, because that feeling of desire never went away – still hasn’t ever gone away despite knowing him for half of my life. He leaned into me and said “I am going to spend the rest of my life with you, you’re my future, my soul, my sunrise and sunset and my moon. You are every star in the sky. Marry me, Louis Tomlinson.”  
And my response was “Let’s do it – today.” 

We got up, and to be honest it was an hour later, lost in each other’s warm skin. Harry also decided to Google how to get married quickly in the UK.  
Turned out, despite our romantic gestures and eagerness, the government didn’t feel the same way. We had to submit our application and get an appointment at the Registrar’s Office. Harry and I decided to treat the application like a proposal. 

Harry printed it out after the gathered all the personal information – like birth certificates and proof of address – and filled out everything but the signatures portion. He left that blank. He smiled as he got down on one knee, presenting me with a pen. “Louis Tomlinson, you’ve always been there for me from the beginning. You’re courageous and the funniest person I know. I can’t imagine any of my life going by without you to light the day. You’ve been my best friend, my rock, my soulmate, my boyfriend, my person. Will you do me the honor of also becoming my husband?”

I pulled Harry up from his bent knee, kissing him hard, tasting my own tears melt into our kiss. I held him while I sobbed into his chest, nodding my head so hard it hurt. “Yes, I will. Every day. I love you, so much.” I took the pen from him, signing the application.

Then I got down on one knee, holding the same pen up to him. “Harry, being with you is like breathing – it is what I need to thrive, to live. You make every day worth living. You’re the smartest, kindest person I have ever known. You’re so sweet and caring, and I love all those things about you. And I love that you’re vulnerable and comfortable in who you are. And I love that when you smile, I see my past, my present, and my future – all in your dimples and bright eyes. Will you sign this paper to submit an application to be my husband?” 

Harry chuckled, lifting me up, strong arms crushing my chest, and spun me around. He peppered smell kisses all over my face – my eyelids, my cheek bones, the tip of my nose – and kept one arm around me while he took the pen. “I couldn’t think of another piece of paper I could want to sign more, Lou.”  
Nothing could burst our bubble as we walked hand in hand to the Registrar’s office to drop off all the necessary document. Harry, of course being the incredibly personable man that he was, knew the young woman who was working behind the clerk’s desk – he bought bread from her niece and dropped off groceries once for her mum.

“Lydia, so good to see you again, how’s your mum?” He asked, holding me close and walking to the window.

“Hey there, you love birds. She’s good. What can I help you two with?”

Harry proudly handed over a manila folder with the marriage application on top – probably dotted with a tear or two. “We are here to submit the marriage license application,” Harry told her like it was the proudest accomplishment he had ever done. 

Lydia’s hand pressed against her heart. “Oh my god, that’s so exciting!” She said, bouncing in her seat. She pulled out the contents of the folder, reviewing and scanning it into the computer system after stamping it with the seal. “Are you two having your own ceremony? Or would you be needing to book the hiring room here?”

“We are going to book the room here, please.” I responded, slipping my hand into Harry’s back pocket. 

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got available.” Lydia said, eyes trained on the screen. She scrolled through quickly, eyes landing on one spot. “It looks like we’ve got an opening at the top of next week, in five days if you two can wait that long,” Lydia said, laughing.

Harry’s laugh filled the small office. “Been waiting a while for this one, about thirteen years now,” he said, gazing into my eyes.

“Tuesday at 10 am, that okay?” Lydia asked.

“Yes, that’s perfect,” I answered. Lydia explained we’d need two witnesses and that she’d call us if she ran into any issues with approving the application. She giggled as she told us she’d see us next week and that she was so excited.

Harry and I walked out of the office, hand in hand. He pulled me against the brick wall of the building and kissed me – granted it was a bit of an awkward kiss given that neither of us could stop smiling enough to kiss properly. And he said “Tuesday,” against my lips.

“Tuesday,” I repeated. 

We asked Mitch and Sarah to drive over for Tuesday, knowing that they’d keep everything private like we asked. We ate dinner with them that night, drank a little too much wine and laughed a little too hard at how sore of a loser Harry was when he was playing drunk Scrabble.

Harry and I fell asleep that night, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms. He reached a hand up and stroked the hair behind my ear, soothing me to sleep. “Tomorrow, you’ll be my husband,” he whispered, softly. 

I told him “I can’t wait.”

Harry peeked his head out of the door of the bathroom, drawing my attention away from reminiscing about the memories from the last eight years. 

“You coming?” Harry asked around the toothbrush in his mouth. I got up from bed and walked to the shower, kissing his cheek after I placed a hand on his hip.  
I turned the shower on, testing the heat with my hand before I stepped in. I stood with my back to the water, letting the hot water cascade down my back – relaxing me. Harry stepped in; the shower was honestly very small in the cottage, much smaller than we were used to. My chest was pressed against his and I looked up at him.  
“Hi there,” he smirked. He grabbed something from behind him and soon after I felt his hands rubbing up and down my torso, washing me with the garden scented body wash he always used. I leaned into the touch, soft moans falling from my lips.

Harry closed his eyes as I switched our places and washed his body. Then Harry stepped out of the shower, somehow managing to leave me feeling cold despite the hot cascading water from the shower. I turned off the shower, stepping out to brush my teeth. When I came back into the room, Harry was dressed in a pair of bell bottom pants and a graphic tee. I leaned over to kiss his cheek while he used a pair of sunglasses to push his hair back.

I pulled on an Adidas track jacket, shoved my feet into a pair of trainers, and got ready to go. 

“Are we walking, or driving?” I asked.

“Walking, it’s about a twelve-minute walk into town, straight down this road. That okay?”

“Always making me exercise,” I said, groaning – not able to hide the smile from my face. I laced my fingers with his and held it while we walked down the gravel path to town. 

The market was colorful, booths of various sizes and make were stacked in aisles. Merchants were smiling, handing out samples and showing off their wares. Harry’s eyes were bright and big – you could tell he lived for this kind of thing, small towns with markets where everyone knew each other. As much as he loved this adrenaline and fast pace of the city and his career, I knew that this was where his heart was. 

“Bonjour,” Harry said to an older lady with ceramics and vases. “Combien d’argent pour le petit vase bleu?” 

“Quinze,” she replied, a big toothy grin on her face when Harry pulled out his wallet and held a blue ceramic pot in his hand. “Merci,” she said, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

“Merci,” he said, returning the kiss. He walked to the next stall, buying fresh tomatoes and zucchinis from a white-haired man with tough hands and dirt under his fingernails. “Tu dois avoir une blle ferme,” Harry said, telling the man that he must have a beautiful farm.

“Oui, merci. Prendre plaisir,” the man called as Harry and I walked towards the next stall.

“How does pasta sound for dinner, love?” Harry asked.

“Sounds good,” I said. Harry got distracted by a jewelry stall and I found a small fruits stall, buying a carton of fresh strawberries. When I met back up with Harry, it was clear that he went shopping. 

“What’d you get?” I asked. 

“It’s a surprise,” he replied with a smile. We walked back to the cottage and put away what we got from the market, parting ways shortly after. Harry went to start a fire and I started cutting up strawberries and sprinkling them with sugar then sitting them in the fridge. Harry sat cross legged in front of the wood burning stove, on his phone. 

“All good, love?” I asked, his brows were drawn in close to one another and he looked confused.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out how to work this stove. There’s this mommy blog that talks about it but that’s all I can really find.”

“Did you get the fire working?” I asked.

“Yeah, I was just trying to learn about cooking methods and all that. It’s a good thing I’m just cooking vegetables and pasta tonight.”

“Would you like any help?”

“No, I’m good. You go relax,” he said, smiling. I walked to the living room and looked around, there was a dark cabinet tucked away in the corner. I opened it, finding thick wool blankets, a fire starter, and a ton of candles. I pulled the candles out and lit them, setting them in various places around the living room and a few in the bedroom. I used the fire starter and set up a fire in the fireplace in the living room. I sat fluffed up the blankets, setting them around the fireplace, trying to make it proper romantic.

I walked into the kitchen, walking up behind Harry, and tucking hair behind his ears. “How’s it coming?”

“Good, I think I’ve got this thing figured out. Shouldn’t be much longer, want to grab the wine and open it?” 

“Sure, love. Of course.” I said, pulling the wine from the brown paper bag on the counter. I searched through the cupboards, finally finding two wine glasses to the left of the sink and poured two generous glasses. I sniffed, the dark, sweet liquor filling my nose. 

Harry, wearing an oven mitt, pulled something out of the fire burning stove, and sat it on top. He peeled back a piece of foil carefully and nodded with satisfaction. “Grab me two plates, please.”

I looked around, finding two pasta dishes on an open shelf and grabbed them, handing them to Harry. I picked up the wine glasses and took them to the table, sitting down and sipping my wine. Harry followed soon after, placing a plate of pasta topped with zucchini and tomatoes, all covered in a garlic butter sauce.

“This smells great, Haz.” I complimented, taking a forkful of dinner and eating it. 

“Thank you, Lou.” 

I held up my wine glass, deep red liquid sloshing about inside making quick legs than ran down the side of the glass. “Cheers?” I asked.

“What are we cheers-ing to on this occasion?”

“To your continued success, Mr. Harry Tomlinson.” I said, smiling big. 

“And to yours, Mr. Louis Styles.” Harry said, clinking his glass against mine.

“And to our approved application, cheers to that, love.” I replied, bringing my glass to ring against his once again. 

“To meeting her, our future daughter. Hayden Styles – Tomlinson.” 

Our glasses met again, like our bright eyes and blushing smiles – like they did when we first finished our adoption application and sent it in. 

When we finished dinner, I cleared away the plates and the table, while Harry focused on making sure the fire in the wood burning stove went out properly.

“Dessert in living room?” I asked, laying my head against his shoulder. 

“Did you buy dessert?” Harry asked, blush creeping up his cheeks. At the time, I assumed it was the wine’s doing. But I later learned it was because Harry thought that we both ended up buying something for dessert. While we were at the market, Harry found a small baked goods stall and bought two brownies. He held them out to me sheepishly. 

“No, I didn’t buy anything. I just put the sugar on the strawberries and put them in the fridge like you like.” I showed him the sealed container I tucked in the fridge earlier.

“We can have both,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against my lips, and slowly took the container from my hands, walking through the door from the kitchen to the living room.

He stopped halfway through the door; I ran right into his back.

“Lou,” he mumbled. “Did you do all this?” His eyes were wide and starstruck, lips parted, a small smile playing on them.

I looked at the living room, honestly feeling some pride and satisfaction. It was really hard to surprise Harry, especially with romantic gestures, considering he was the kind of person that always thought about that sort of thing. It felt good to be able to show him that I could be too.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed the back of his arm, to his back, then up his neck. Harry spun around quickly in my arms, brownies and strawberries still clutched in his hands, eyes wide with wanting. Desire was in tune with my heartbeat. 

I leaned up on my toes and pressed a tender kiss into his lips. He broke the kiss to scramble to put the food down on the closest table. He came back, arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me up on my toes to kiss me. Harry walked backwards towards the blankets laid out by the rugs. He sat down, pulling me between his bent knees and eagerly kissed me. 

He parted my lips, tasting mainly of red wine and something earthy, something distinctly Harry. I ran my hands down his sides, exhaling deeply into his mouth. I sat on my calves, pressing my hips against his spread legs.

Harry panted against my lips when I started grinding against him. He leaned back on his forearms after I took his shirt off and tossed it aside. I massaged my fingertips into his hips as I kissed down his torso. His hips involuntarily pressed into me while I fluttered kisses across his waist. 

He pulled my shirt off and pulled at the drawstring of my track pants. He palmed at my cock through my pants while leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on my collarbone. I ran my fingers through his hair, fingers lightly scratching at his scalp. He pulled the joggers half way down my thighs, stroking me through the thin material of my boxers.

His head swooped down, mouthing over the boxers – hot and wet against my cock. I groaned and pulled my hips up to meet his mouth. Harry finally pulled the boxers down, my cock resting heavily against my hip, curving upwards. 

Harry held me at the base of my cock, flattening his tongue and licking up the entire length. I closed my eyes, a low, throaty groan trapped at the base of my neck. Harry licked his lips before he sucked the head of my cock between his lips. He pushed his lips mouth, pressing them big and soft against the tip. I put my arms back to steady myself, breathing in and out slowly, humming softly at the pleasure. 

He stroked the base while he sucked, his mouth slowly followed his hand down and down and down until I hit the back of his throat. He slowly bobbed his head, humming around me. “Fuck, babe.” I groaned.

When my mouth fell open, only soft pants falling from my lips, Harry pulled off me with a pop. “Lube?” Harry whispered, voice hoarse and groaning. “Want you inside of me,” he mumbled, looking up at me, pupils blown out, only a thin ring of pale green visible.

“I’ll go get it,” I said, kissing and nibbling his neck. My fingers stroked the waist of his jeans. “Get these off while I’m gone, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry said, eagerly. He bit his lip and scrambled to get the jeans off while I went to the bedroom to find the lube in the bottom of my bag. 

When I came back to the living room, Harry was naked, laying against the blanket on the floor. The fire crackled beside him, casting a deep, soft light against his skin. “God, you’re beautiful, Harry.” I said, coming over to him immediately, not able to keep my hands away from his soft skin, stroking his sides, hips. I pulled the rest of my clothes off and kissed down his torso, nibbling his collarbone, sucking his nipple, licking down his abs. 

I kissed back up to his shoulder, nibbling where his collarbone met his shoulder. “Turn around for me, gorgeous.” 

Harry flipped over onto his stomach, small, perky ass up in the air. I rubbed my hand down his back, following his spine until I slipped the hand between him. I uncapped the lube, drizzling it down onto Harry’s hole. Harry bucked at the feeling of the cool gel, a gasp falling from his lips. I added some to my fingers and circled them around his hole, sucking a hickey on his jaw. 

I slowly slid my finger inside, stroking softly. Harry turned his head, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth, biting and kissing. He moaned into my mouth when I added another finger and drew my lips away from his to press kisses against his tattoos and back. 

Harry pulled his knees under him, spreading himself open. I added a third finger, drawing them in and out, curling and rubbing against him, making his legs shake.  
“I’m good,” he panted. “Want you now, please.” Harry said, taking the lube from my hands. He balanced on his elbows and stroked my cock with lube.

“On your back, I want to see you.” Harry moved quickly, laying on his back, legs bent at the knees and open. I held one of Harry’s hips while I guided myself in, enveloped in his impossibly tight heat. I started grinding slowly, kissing softly as he brought his legs up and wrapped them around my waist.

“I love you,” he whispered, that was soon followed by a groan as I bottomed out again. 

“Fuck, I love you. You feel so good, always so good.” I whimpered, wrapping an arm under his neck and holding him to my chest while I thrust into him. Sweet moans left his bitten lips, right into my chest, muffled amongst the sounds of the crackling fire.

Harry rocked his hips against mine, bringing his legs up more. I rolled us onto our sides, holding him close. I soothed my hand over his leg, hoisting it further up in the air, thrusting my cock deep into him. Harry arched his back, a low moan ringing deep in my ears.

I leaned in closer, keeping a slow, smooth rhythm with my hips, and nibbled Harry’s jaw. His hips sputtered beneath me and the leg I had up in the air started trembling. “Stroke yourself for me, baby.”

Harry whimpered, unbaling one of his hands in a fist from my back and brought it around, in between us. He wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking quickly. I grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Slowly,” I clarified. 

Harry blinked his eyes, unfocused and dazed, panting softly. He stroked softly, matching the pace of my thrusts. I held his leg up while I rocked into him, losing myself in the pleasure of feeling him against me – moans and whimpers rising in the air.

I thrusted up, feeling Harry’s warm mouth against my collarbone gasp when I thrust against his spot. I sped up, unrelentingly, not letting the feeling fade. Harry’s legs were tense, bathed in the pleasure. He cried out loudly, fingernails digging into my back. He came, legs trembling and mouth panting. I started grinding harder, riding out his orgasm, and building my own. Harry bounced against me, him calling my name sending me over the edge and I came inside him. 

Harry rolled over onto his back, pulling me with his eyes closed against his chest. His face was turned towards the fire and he held me against his chest. “I love you, so so much.” Harry said, voice low and raspy. His fingertips trailed softly down my back.

“I love you, to the moon and back, baby.” I said. I laid there for a few more minutes, before I sat up and reached for the table. I brought down the brownies and strawberries, pinching off a small piece and fed it to Harry. 

His lips wrapped around my finger, sucking the brownie bit into his mouth sensually, pink lips wrapped around my finger. “Mmm,” he complimented. His finger reached for a strawberry and slid it into my mouth; I looked up at him between my eyelashes while I ate it.

“Are you trying to seduce me when we’ve just had sex?” he asked, leaning up and kissing my neck.

“I’d never,” I said with a gasp. “Is it working?”

Harry giggled against my neck, grabbing a piece of brownie. He held it up to my mouth but when I opened my mouth for the piece, he quickly swiped it and popped it into his. I shoved my hands flat against his chest. “You dick,” I chided.

“I got you something,” he nuzzled into my neck. He stretched his long legs, curling his toes, before he stood up. I ate some more brownie and stared at the fire, waiting for him to come back. He sat behind me, chest against my back, and handed me a small velvet bag.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Something from the market,” Harry said vaguely. I laid my head back against his neck and pulled the string on the back, dumping the contents out into my open hand. Two dainty golden bracelets fell against my fingertips, the metal cool in comparison to our sweaty skin and hot fire. 

One bracelet had a small crescent moon charm, the other had a small sun charm. Both of the bracelets were small and dainty. Harry’s arms wrapped around me, long fingers moving carefully as he took the sun bracelet, fingers fumbling with the hook before putting it on my wrist. 

He kissed my neck and held the moon bracelet out to me, and I took it from his hand. I wrapped the thin gold chain around his wrist and fastened it.


End file.
